


A Little Doubt Goes A Long Way

by LoveLadyBLove



Category: Wolverine (Movies), X-Men (Movieverse), X-Men (Original Timeline Movies)
Genre: Anal Sex, F/M, Rough Sex, Vaginal Sex
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-04-26
Updated: 2017-04-26
Packaged: 2018-10-24 03:17:32
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 859
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/10733034
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/LoveLadyBLove/pseuds/LoveLadyBLove
Summary: Donald had finally decided that the reason she wasn’t dead was because of her mouth. That was the bit of her that always kept him coming back. That what was he liked best about her.





	A Little Doubt Goes A Long Way

**Author's Note:**

> Boyd Holbrook as Donald Pierce is haunting me, and this is what my brain decided to do with it.

Donald had finally decided that the reason she wasn’t dead was because of her mouth. That was the bit of her that always kept him coming back. That what was he liked best about her. 

Her dark red lips, so plush and full, always willing to please. The way her tongue dueled with his as her hands pressed against his chest and she rode him at a gallop. The way she moaned his name as she came, her back arching and body shaking. It was how pretty her mouth looked when it was filled with his cock, swallowing him whole and sucking his balls dry.

Yep, that was the reason. Her mouth.

But then the next day he’d change his mind entirely and decide that wasn’t it at all, no. Clearly it had to be her pussy. It was the way she tasted when he slipped his tongue inside her and she came in his mouth. The way she glistened as he ran his fingers up and down her wet slit. Or her heat when he was pounding into her, so fucking hot and silky like he was fucking the cunt of the devil herself. 

With another day came another change of heart. Maybe it wasn’t her mouth, or her pussy. Maybe it was her legs that wrapped around his slim waist like an old leather belt, perfectly fit for him. The way her thighs clamped against the sides of his head, locking his mouth against her. Or the way he could wrestle her limbs into whatever position he wanted, no matter how impossible.

No, it was actually her tits. They were small and pert, with deep pink nipples that were always hard. Especially when he came across her chest and droplets of him shimmered across her skin. How they slapped against his hard chest, or how he could make her keen with his teeth raking over each nipple in turn. 

Or possibly it was her ass, and how tight she was when he finally managed to wedge himself inside. 

Choices, baby. They were hard to make. 

He knew he would turn her in eventually. Someday. Maybe. It was his job after all. But her…. Well, it would have to wait. Maybe when he wasn’t having this much fun. Sometime in the unknown future, when she wasn’t the first thing on his mind every morning and he wasn’t already stiff with just the thought of her.

Every night she waited for him to come to her, like an appointment they had never spoken or agreed to. He didn’t knock and they didn’t speak. They just tore at one another like animals in heat.

He felt like an animal. He felt like one of them and didn’t care one damn bit, not when her mouth was on him and her hands were pulling at his belt.

Sometimes he’d find himself thinking he’d never met a woman like her, and somewhere inside a little voice would correct him - she not a woman, not a real one, she’s just a dog waiting to be put down- but Donald was really good at not thinking about things too much.

He tamped that voice down and marveled at how she took everything he could dish out. He’d be barebacked and balls deep in her impossibly tight ass, three fingers filling her pussy and another pinching her clit, and somehow she’d still be begging for more. 

That’s was usually when he’d bury his teeth into her shoulder and come so hard he’d swear he forgot his own name. 

She never backed down. She never let her eyes rest a beat too long on his hand or flinch when he reached for her. She didn’t jerk away when he grabbed her by the hair and pulled her to the bedroom. She certainly never whined in a breathy voice, “You’re hurting me” or “Stop”. Not like the rest. 

If he had a nickle for every time he had heard that.

His hand print across one high, round ass cheek was welcomed. The bruises on her hips from the way he grabbed her and held her down as he fucked her into the mattress - or couch,or wall, wherever really- never slowed her down. The teeth marks on her back and breasts, the rug burns on her knees, and the rings on her wrists from the time he fancied tying her to the bed for one long, wicked evening of fun- she wore all those marks like a badge. She craved them.

He was almost certain what her mutation was. He never asked and she never offered. He didn’t care, not really. And him not caring? Yeah, that was probably a part of it, too. But Donald was really good at not thinking about things too much.

But he did know that better men than him, stronger men, had fallen prey to beautiful strumpets like her. Great Greek warriors lured to their deaths. Sampson humiliated by Delilah. Eve and her mother fucking apple.

And those were all the good guys, stalwart and true. What could anyone expect from him, Donald Pierce?

After all, he’s just a bad guy.


End file.
